


Forbidden Fruit

by MemoriesAreMeantToBeShared



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 18:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21306527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoriesAreMeantToBeShared/pseuds/MemoriesAreMeantToBeShared
Summary: Persephone feels lonely on a rainy day in the Mortal Realm, and Hades misses his wife.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 125
Collections: First Ever LO Discord Fanfic Exchange





	Forbidden Fruit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CheeZee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=CheeZee).

> Thank you to @JuliaLiz and the LO Fandom for inspiring me to write this! Thank you CheeZee, I hope you enjoy this! The prompt was "Rainy Day" 
> 
> xx

It was on days like today Persephone missed home the most. The rain hitting the panes of the greenhouse, forcing her to take shelter while the budding flowers soak up moisture needed to grow. Her work done for the day, with nothing to do but wait for the storm to pass, it feels as though seedlings are pushing up through her skin, small twitches urging her to do work where there is none to be done. 

On these rainy days, she misses her home. She misses _him_. 

During the busy, sun and heat-filled days, the Goddess of Spring is able to lose herself in her work. Managing the nymphs, planting, and pruning foliage, there is simply no time to miss her husband or her other life. But on days like this, curled up near a window, watching the rain continuously run down the glass, she can’t help but feel the absence of him. It’s all too easy to remember his voice, his breath. To imagine she can feel the weight of his arm around her shoulders, how he’d pull her into his side as they listened to the gently tapping spring rain outside.

With Hades, being stuck inside on a gloomy day would be a delight. She’d finally be able to completely relax, unperturbed by responsibilities she should be attending to or work she was ignoring to spend time with him. They could simply enjoy being together, blue meeting pink as hands and feet intertwined on her daybed.

Without him though, this rain was just another reminder of how much work there was to be done, how many months it would be until she saw the God of the Underworld again.

***

Face drawn, eyes heavy, Hades gazes up into the perpetually dark sky. Blue. Black. It’s all he can see, all there is to see. No vibrance. No pink. No _her_. In his head, he knows there is beauty in his realm. A silent, seductive, mysterious attraction. In fact, for half of the year, he revels in it. He adores showing Persephone his world, taking her to the natural wonders of caverns and pools, watching the constellations from the tops of skyscrapers and mountains. She rejoices in this land of constant night, finds excitement in what to him, after thousands of years, has become only mundane.

In the Underworld, Persephone shines, her light not only reflecting off of Hades but seeping through his skin until he can feel it, glowing and warm inside of him. 

Like parched dirt, she nourishes him, seducing life and growth from barren soil.

Turning from his bedroom window, Hades sits down heavily at his desk. He knows, he _knows_ he should be happy for her, above, doing what she loves. He knows how much she adores the Mortal Realm, how their short lives inspire her to take action and savor her work. And this separation wouldn’t be so bad, if not for the fact that he can also feel her sadness, her loneliness. Her wishing for home and him.

Knowing it’s pointless, Hades lays down. He can’t afford to be fretful tomorrow, and doesn’t want to deal with Hecate’s pitying looks, well-meant as they are.

Though Persephone is absent, he still only uses the right side of the bed, her pillows (scent still intact) as untouched as their mistress. Though during the night he will inevitably and unconsciously move towards that side, searching for her, he can’t bring himself to claim the large territory, too large for even his broad frame.

Yet despite the late hour, he is restless. His eyes continually stray to the window, as if he can burrow through the miles above to the Mortal Realm. Again and again he forces himself to relax, only to become frustrated by the quietness of the house, the emptiness of his bed. Their bed. Finally the stale air becomes too much and, kicking the blanket off with a huff, he makes his way downstairs, grabbing a coat as he goes.

In the courtyard, he takes a deep breath, feeling the night air calm his heartbeat, allowing the comforting sights to ease his tense shoulders. Flowers. Trees. Pomegranates. His wedding present to Persephone had been this garden, sprawling throughout the once barren courtyard, the bursts of color and tangling vines inserting themselves into every corner until there are no bare walls to be seen. Hades had only given her the beginning plants and space. From there, her passion had taken over, and now, standing here, he sees her in every petal, every leaf.

One of the first things Hades had fallen in love with was Persephone’s energy for life. The God of the Dead, he had been stunned by his attraction to it, yet powerless against her pull. So now, as much as he misses her, much as it pains the both of them to be apart, Hades can’t regret it. Though it takes her away each year, it was in the World Above where his wife had been nurtured and had developed that love of life he holds so dear.

Smiling, Hades reaches out, his fingers brushing over a fruit-laden tree. Because of her, he can now appreciate the plant’s arduous journey, its struggle for life and battle against time. Plan beginning to form, Hades carefully plucks the pomegranate and cradles it carefully in his hands. It begins to glow.

***

The next day the rain has abated, and Persephone is once again able to fly over the fields, dropping down to confer with the nymphs, appreciating their progress and lending aid where she can. Pleased with the day’s work, she takes her time returning home, knowing the quiet that awaits her. Flying slowly over field and forest, the scent of wet soil and new growth follows her. Once this feeling of contentment, of pride in her work, would have been enough. But no longer. Having tasted the forbidden fruit of the Underworld, Persephone can never be fully happy far from the man she loves. She struggles, torn between her love of nourishing new life, of Spring and growth, and the home she has discovered and grown for herself far, far away.

Returning back to her cottage, her home for the summer months, Persephone finds a package waiting for her. Picking it up from her porch, her brow wrinkles at the plain paper and lack of postage.  As she opens it though, her expression changes from one of confusion to adoration.

In her hand sits a pomegranate, gently pulsing with light. On its stem is attached a card:

_To my Dearest Wife -_

_Just as this fruit will never spoil, neither will my love for you. Know that I am thinking of you, and count the days until you are home with me once more. _

_All my love,_

_-Hades_


End file.
